I’m Athena, but everyone calls me Ace. I’m a 32-year-old wife, dog mom, and, as of last Thanksgiving, the unwitting star of a crime thriller. Okay, not really, but that’s what came to my mind back then.

It all started Thanksgiving morning. My husband, Kyle, offered to grab the turkey we had pre-ordered at the local organic butcher shop so I could focus on the chaos in the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon!” he said, cheerful as ever, before heading out.

I should’ve known something was off when “soon” turned into over an hour.

When Kyle finally returned, he looked frazzled. His hair was messier than usual, and his smile seemed forced.

“Took longer than I thought. Had to hit three places and help Mom with something. Everything’s fine, though,” he said, breathless.

But before I could ask for details on what happened, his phone buzzed. “Great. Mom’s car broke down in the middle of the road. Gotta go help her, and I’m probably driving her here.” And just like that, he was out the door again.

That was weird, even for Kyle, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Thanksgiving offered no breaks.

While I was juggling pies and side dishes, Max started going nuts. He’s usually excited on Thanksgiving because he knows scraps are coming his way, but this was different.

He stood in front of the counter where the turkey sat, barking his head off like a maniac.

“Max, enough! You’re not getting raw turkey,” I scolded gently, but he didn’t care. He kept pacing, barking, and jumping up like he was trying to reach the turkey.

“Seriously?” I muttered, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “What is your deal, buddy? I know you like this holiday, but this isn’t like you.”

Twenty minutes of relentless barking later, I gave in. “Fine. Let’s take a look at this turkey, but I’m not giving you any.” My dog stared at me with his wide, gorgeous eyes and barked one more time.

I sighed and grabbed some kitchen scissors to remove the turkey’s plastic wrapping. At first, nothing was amiss, but Max barked again and whined.

“No, boy. This is raw. You’re not used to a raw diet, so you’re not getting anything,” I repeated and even lifted the turkey to show him, ensuring that he couldn’t reach it.

But as I moved it, I noticed more plastic coming from its… well, butt. I hadn’t asked for it to be pre-stuffed. So, I put it down and reached inside, only to unearth a plastic bag with money inside. Thousands of dollars in cash.

Max started barking at the bag and forgot all about the turkey. So, that was his goal all along!

“What the—?” I whispered, staring at the turkey, bewildered. Why was there money in the turkey? Did Kyle know about this? Was it even ours? Did the butcher shop send the wrong one?

Was something going on here? Did we unknowingly get involved in some sort of illegal activity?

Max was still barking at the bag of cash, and for some reason, I got spooked. Our dog was a rescue and had never been trained as a police dog or anything. But maybe, he sniffed something I couldn’t.

So, I took my phone and called the police. “Hi, um, I need to report something… strange,” I said, knowing they would think I was crazy.

But they listened and promised to send some officers soon. I felt awful that I was possibly interrupting their Thanksgiving. But I had to be safe.

Officer Johnson, a veteran who looked like he’d seen it all, was the first to walk inside. He was quickly followed by Officer Miller, a younger, wide-eyed rookie who seemed overwhelmed before he even stepped into my kitchen.

“Ma’am, can you show us what you found?” Officer Johnson asked, cool as a cucumber.

I led them to the turkey, still sitting on the counter, with the cash-filled bag right next to it. “I… I don’t even know what to say,” I admitted.

Officer Miller leaned in, his eyes wide. “That’s… uh, that’s a lot of money,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks, Officer Obvious,” Officer Johnson muttered under his breath before turning back to me. “Where did you get this turkey?”

“My husband picked it up this morning from our butcher shop, just like every year,” I said. “He’s not home right now. He went to help his mom with something.”

Officer Johnson raised an eyebrow. “Convenient.”

Before I could defend Kyle, the front door opened, and he came in with his mom, Ruth, in tow. His face blanched when he saw the police in our kitchen.

“Uh… what’s going on?” Kyle asked, clearing his throat.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Officer Johnson said.

I pointed to the counter. “Kyle, there was a bag of cash inside our turkey! Did you know? Is there something going on?”

Kyle’s eyes popped open, but he stayed quiet.

Officer Johnson squared his shoulders before speaking. “Look, son. We need to know the truth because this is one of the oddest smuggling cases I’ve ever seen,” he warned him.

My husband started biting his lip as his eyes darted between us and the turkey. Suddenly, Ruth nudged him roughly. “Okay, okay!” he spoke up at last. “It’s mine. The money’s mine.”

“What? Why would you put it inside a turkey?” I asked.

Kyle ran a hand through his hair, looking as sheepish as ever.

“I was trying to surprise you, Ace,” he sighed heavily. “I cashed out my savings yesterday to book us a trip to Hawaii. But I left the money in my car and only remembered after I picked up the turkey today. I didn’t want you to discover the surprise early, so… I hid the cash in the turkey. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“That’s…” I had no words.

Ruth chimed in. “I can confirm that he’s telling the truth, Ace. He told me he had finally reached his goal for the trip and cashed out his account. But he didn’t tell me he stuffed the money in the turkey!”

She looked at her son pointedly and gave him another nudge. This one was rougher.

Finally, I found my voice. “Kyle! What would you have done if I put the turkey in the oven without noticing the money? Remember, I’m cooking here!”

Kyle scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t think of that,” he muttered, sheepish.

I couldn’t believe it, but this insane tension was broken when Officer Johnson laughed loudly.

“Son, I’ve seen a lot of things, but hiding money in poultry? That’s a first,” he wheezed between chuckles.

Officer Miller looked at his superior and then at the turkey before asking, “Uh, should we… dust it for fingerprints?”

“I have the withdrawal receipt,” Kyle revealed, reaching into his pocket. Finally! He was doing something smart!

Officer Johnson took it and checked that the amount in the bag coincided with the receipt. Both officers left afterward, still finding the whole thing amusing.

I covered my face in mortification as soon as I closed the door behind them. Then I shook my head and crossed my arms, turning to my husband, frustrated. “Kyle! That was so embarrassing. You sounded insane!”

“Stupid is more like it,” Ruth said, settling on the couch.

He hunched his shoulders. “I panicked! I wanted to keep it a surprise, and, the turkey was right there.”

“It could’ve caught fire in the oven,” I said, panicking as other scenarios crossed my mind. What if the whole house had burned down all because of this cash?

What if Max hadn’t barked at it? What if I had ignored it? And also, did I marry an idiot?

Kyle was goofy, and it always seemed like he was rushing or running late. He could be clumsy and forgetful. But this incident truly took the cake.

“Honestly, Kyle,” Ruth added. “You’re lucky if Ace doesn’t divorce you after this.”

I huffed, and he looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. But I was immune to that look. If Max couldn’t sway me for more treats with his cuteness, my husband couldn’t either.

And yet, I released a big breath, and a small giggle came out of my mouth. “You’re unbelievable,” I whispered, shaking my head and smiling despite myself. “But I guess your heart was in the right place.”

Kyle gave me a toothy, goofy smile, and we moved on from that incident.

Later that night, we had a memorable Thanksgiving and laughed while telling the rest of the family what Kyle had done.

Max, our hero, got extra turkey scraps for his efforts, and my husband had to endure the playful teasing from his relatives.

Later, we went on that trip to Hawaii, of course. That’s where we conceived our baby, and I’m looking forward to telling him that he was born because his father stuffed a turkey with money.

But I’ll have to wait several years for that. Anyway, folks, listen to your dogs! Sometimes, they’re not just looking for treats! Happy Thanksgiving!